


Eros

by I_Shouldnt_Be_Here



Series: Love is known as... [7]
Category: Shubh Mangal Zyada Saavdhan (2020)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Drama, Drunk!Aman, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25229590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Shouldnt_Be_Here/pseuds/I_Shouldnt_Be_Here
Summary: Experimenting was the name of the game. Aman found himself getting reluctantly dragged to a bar. A hookup takes an unlikely direction.
Relationships: Kartik Singh/Aman Tripathi
Series: Love is known as... [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764058
Comments: 26
Kudos: 51





	Eros

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!

“Aman chall na! Aur kitne din maggi khaate-khaate bhoot jaise hostel ke chakkar lagayega?”

_ (Aman come along! How many more days will you circle these halls like a ghost with a plate of maggi?) _

Aman reluctantly shifted his eyes away from the movie he was currently watching. It was a horror film, and he was comfortably snuggled up in his blanket. His inertia was another heavier blanket wrapped over him, leaden and sedate.

“Saturday ki shaam hai, kahan jayega?” he asked but he already knew the answer.

_ (It’s a Saturday evening, where exactly will you go?) _

“Tujhe pata hai. Itna masoom banne ki koi zaroorat nahi.” His roommate threw a pillow at him, which hit the wall currently supporting his back.

_ (You know where. Don’t play so innocent.) _

“Masoomiyat ki baat nahi hai yaar, film dekh raha hoon, aur mera mood nahi hai taiyaar hokar, khud ko ghaseetkar bar me leke jaun taaki mai subah-subah sardard lekar uthoon.” Frustration crept up and piled higher with each one of Aman’s words.

_ (It’s not a case of innocence, I’m watching a film, I have the least interest to get dressed up and drag myself into a bar just to get plastered and wake up with a splitting headache the next morning.) _

“Abey chal na! Har baar puchta hoon aur tu manaa kar deta hai. Ladkiyan bhi hai udhar.  _ Ladkiyan.”  _ His roommate said with a wistful glance, bordering on the edge of creepy. Aman said a silent prayer for whichever girl his roommate was about to make an attempt to hook up with.

_ (Let loose for once! I ask you every time and you refuse. There will be women there.  _ Women.)

Aman extended and draped his legs over the nearby study table, disgruntlement clearly written on his face. This silent stalemate continued for a long minute and then the roommate couldn’t contain his silence anymore.

“Gay hai kya? Ladkiyon ka naam leta hoon aur tujhe koi interest nahi hai.” The roommate positioned his face as if he expected Aman to break out in a laugh immediately, following a joke. His  _ ‘ready-steady-go’ _ expression was comical.

_ (Are you gay or what? I talk to you about women and you’re not interested at all.) _

Aman’s face soured immediately. A corner of his lip raised in utter disdain.

“Seriously, agli baar insult karna hai toh kuch original sochna.” he spat with the utmost indifference. 

_ (Seriously, think of something original the next time you want to insult me.) _

Aman sighed. His plans of watching horror movies were due to be sacrificed at the altar of dumb dudebro humour, whose sanctity could not be cross-examined without bringing your own masculinity into question.

…

Aman wove his way through the pulsating crowd at the bar. He wondered if the pounding he felt in his chest was because of the bass-heavy music or it was due to the gatekeeper checking his ID. 

Then he looked to the writhing mass of people jumping with every thump and pound of generic dancey bollywood music.

It was definitely the bass.

“You were about to miss this!” His roommate whispered excitedly into his ear, the pitch bumping up and down as he began grooving to the beat. 

The neon green lights on his face looked grotesque yet captivating, as if he was a relic of a museum specialising in 21st century urban bar culture. 

He knew there were a few people like him who were first timers but pretended not to be. 

He had drunk alcohol and gotten drunk before, in the presence of a few older cousins (it was supplied from the backs of shady-looking vans in the weddings of distant relatives, known euphemistically as ‘ _ bandobust’  _ or ‘ _ vyavastha’ _ ) but this time he was about to get the full experience.

He made his way to the bar counter. He could  _ not _ dance, thank you very much. The slick, winding counter laid a glassy black carpet over the timeline of the next few hours, freezing those few hours in his head for a long time to come. 

He was determined to lose his roommate in the crowd. 

The idea of drinking (and letting loose in general) terrified him. He was terrified of the chinks in his cultivated straight-guy aura getting completely fragmented by alcohol in front of a roommate whom he barely had any connection to. 

But, the night was young, and the atmosphere had a way of inspiring the wayward, capricious side in everyone. Aman couldn’t help but get swept up, shedding his earlier reservations. 

He downed a few shots of a burning, transparent liquid. The bartender told him it was vodka. The last image on his mind was one of potatoes. A lot of them.

His vision blurred on the edges and focused in the centre at the same time.

He couldn’t find his roommate anywhere. He was all alone, with no thought of exactly how he was going to land up into his dorm the next morning. 

During the time he was downing those shots, a man observed him, one who used his shoulders, waist and  _ hips _ to dance instead of the jerky, flailing elbows, knees and awkward head-bopping routines of the other men present there. 

Kartik wandered around the dance floor until that man caught his sights. After, he made a conscious attempt at dancing near him.

Aman watched his swaying hips and shimmying shoulders. During this spell of hypnotising movement, their eyes caught each other in the act of reconnaissance. Aman was fixated upon how the neon green lights played over his face (especially over that silver nose ring) while Kartik focused on the billowing shadows near his stubble and not-so-defined jaw. 

Kartik bit his lip after he was caught in the act. Aman raised his eyebrow by a millimetre. His eyes became the tools of questioning this rather willing subject. But during the time in which their eyes engaged in dialogue, Aman felt that he was left with more questions than answers. Those questions were interpolated with steady beats that Aman felt in the middle of his chest.

A silent agreement passed between them and Aman made his way towards the alley, tailing the smoky glances of that man.

…

In the alley, Aman was asked the same question for the second time in a day.

“Are you gay?” He asked, deadpan. The words were whispered into Aman’s ear like a secret. 

The contradiction of his eyes that said ‘keep away’ while his body that leaned into Aman’s at every bend of his own made him erupt into a nervous giggle. 

His head bent down to conceal his laughter. Kartik turned away from him reluctantly. He had been punched, shouted at, kissed furiously after that question, but never had the person on the other end  _ laughed. _

It wasn’t a gay bar, and that man did not stand out much amidst the crowd of other men, but today his impulse control had gone for a toss. Kartik was afraid that he had been too painfully direct with him.

Aman held his stomach for a split second, and suddenly his laughter was gone, leaving him to fend for himself in the gravity of this situation. He knew he was gay, but couldn’t quite tease out its meaning when another variable, that is, another living, breathing  _ man _ was added into the equation. And no, fleeting encounters in high school did not count. He looked upward at the tall, handsome man and stood on his toes for a boost.

Aman gathered up the remnants of his courage and kissed him on the cheek gently, feeling his own and that man’s stubble brush together to create the most delicious sort of friction.

“Aisi koi galat baat nahi hai, lekin meri gay vibe itni strong hai kya?”

_ (Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but do I really have that much of a gay vibe?) _

Kartik was stunned. He didn’t expect such  _ tenderness.  _ He could feel an electric tremble on the cheek where he had been kissed.

“What’s your name?” He asked. He could see those impossibly round, innocent eyes sparkle. His eyelids trembled a little, unsure. Aman grabbed frantically onto whatever alias he could find floating at the top of his head.

“Ayush. What’s yours?” The swishing, almost  _ silencing _ end of ‘Ayush’ was clipped short by his question. Kartik was pretty sure that this beautiful creature didn’t trust him with his name yet. 

“Mine is Karan.” 

“Can I kiss you?” Those words burst forthwith from two pairs of lips. One was a little too unsure, and the other a little too direct.

Kartik looked into his eyes and a smile was passed between those lips. He mirrored Aman’s move and kissed him on both cheeks, languidly brushing over his lips. The corner of his mouth broke into a tiny, imperceptible smile and he gave in to the rising tide that swole in his chest and threatened to splinter the dams of his restraint.

Aman was glad that he hadn’t drank too much. Some semblance of sobriety still remained within him, leading him on to stay present and enjoy the kiss of this handsome man even more. 

He felt goosebumps over his entire body and his chest trembled with pleasure in response. He gasped a little as he felt a tongue feeling his bottom lip. His mouth opened to grant him access and the kiss deepened. Aman felt positively  _ electric _ , in the arms of this man.

His back dug deeper into the naked redbrick wall of the alley as he felt a warm hand flattening against his chest and another wrapping around his waist. His lips were reluctant to give up on  _ this _ dance. Then suddenly, warbling abuses hit his ears.

“Ai tum dono! Idhar se niklo! Yahan ye saari gandagi nahi chalegi!” 

_ (Hey you two! Fuck off! I won’t tolerate this dirt here!) _

Kartik’s eyes widened in fear. Suddenly he was given a horrible reminder of what  _ could  _ happen.

“Bhaag saale, bhaag!” 

_ (Run, fucker, run!) _

Kartik took Aman’s hand in his and ran out of the alley. Aman stumbled along, unable to keep up with his long legs. He could hear a dull thud and a high pitched crashing noise behind him. 

Kartik knew that the pursuers often gave up when their targets were out of sight. He sprinted outwards, into another narrow opening between two closed shops. 

Both of them breathed out hard and fast as they entered that narrow space, which definitely wasn’t supposed to exist. Their breaths evened out, and Kartik let out a snicker. Aman couldn’t help laughing in aborted gasps along with him.

“Udhar hi apna ‘the end’ ho jata, nahi?” Kartik breathed out.

_ (That would have been the end, right there.) _

“Hospital mein, saale.” Aman spat.

_ (In the goddamn hospital.) _

Kartik looked at the man standing barely three feet away. He couldn’t decide whether his arousal was due to fear or excitement. But the presence of it was undeniable, magnified by the heaving shudders of Aman’s chest.

The laughter ended and an unspoken sadness passed between them, reminding of the price of their desire. It was unremittingly high, but Kartik couldn’t help but take a shot at it.

“I know a spot. Chaloge?” Kartik whispered into Aman’s ears and left a light kiss on his neck. He knew that kiss was meant as a bargain, as a prelude to what was about to happen. He felt that he was being a little unfair but hoped that the other man did not notice.

_ (I know a spot. Will you come along?) _

Aman’s eyes flitted about, contemplating the weight of his words. He knew he was curious about sex, but he didn’t want to engage in it in such a manner that could possibly end up in him getting mugged.

Then he felt a kiss being placed gently on his neck and jaw and all of his restraint slipped away. It was the residual alcohol rushing in his bloodstream, definitely  _ not _ this handsome man who currently breathed out a microsecond-long fantasy onto his neck.

Definitely not the man’s fault.

Aman knew he was probably making a mistake but whatever.

“Okay… lekin kidhar?” He asked.

_ (Okay… but where exactly?) _

“Ola bulana padega. Chalega tumhe?” Kartik gave him the location. It was rather close to his dorm, so he could run away if anything funny happened.

_ (I’ll need to call an Ola. is it okay with you?) _

_ … _

The tiny cab could barely contain the electric glances and nervous touches being exchanged between the two of them. The weight of their lust was such. Kartik put a hand on Aman’s thigh and Aman was about to give up right there. He held Kartik’s hands and clutched them tight. Kartik ventured close to Aman’s neck and kissed him there. Aman was a little skittish while pushing him away, but he was successful in drawing the boundaries. Kartik drew back an inch and took in his smell. 

He smelled like generic deodorant, laundry detergent and an incredible  _ blankness _ .

Like crisp sheets of white paper. 

He pulled back, but Aman still clutched his hands tightly.

This much would be enough for now.

…

Kartik led him inside a small apartment. It was one of those nondescript matchbox-style apartments, with nothing inside to make it stand out. Nervousness crept inside Aman because he was in an unfamiliar place, and also, because he saw  _ him  _ for the first time in stark white tube light.

His features were naked, stripped of the strange green shadows of the bar. Kartik went forward and kissed him on the lips, hard. He cupped his hands over the back of Aman’s shoulders. 

Something that escaped his mind for the whole evening struck him immediately. He hadn’t had sex before. 

To avoid that sudden revelation, he kissed him fiercely, lips swelling and turning a deeper shade of pink. Aman’s weight rested upon Kartik’s body and his legs wrapped around his waist. Kartik spun around, lips still attached to Aman’s while he gently put him over the small dining table.

“Pehle kabhi ye kiya hai kya?” He asked.

_ (Have you done this before?) _

Kartik saw a conflicted look pass over the other man’s face. His eyes flitted about left and right, avoiding his own. A hint of fear passed over them too. Kartik felt bad for him. He was probably doing it for the first time, that too with someone he had met only a few hours ago. He deserved to have sex with someone who had taken the effort to know him, to  _ love  _ him, if those utterly  _ captivating _ eyes said anything. 

For god’s sake he wasn’t even sure of the name he had given him was his own. And he had repaid that deception with one of his own.

But the pooling desire in his own body needed an outlet. He would have more than enough time to take the moral high ground in the morning. He knew that performing penetrative sex on him would probably have less than ideal consequences.

The whole situation was less than ideal anyway, so he did the next best thing.

“Penetrative nahi karunga, ya tumhe karne bolunga. Mood nahi hai. Blowjob chalega?” Kartik said it as nonchalantly as possible, to avoid scaring him off.

_ (I don’t want penetrative, nor will I tell you to do so. I’m not in the mood. Is a blowjob okay?) _

Those round eyes, which were following every movement of his own widened imperceptibly in relief.

A fragment of trust was passed from Kartik’s eyes to Aman’s. 

Aman couldn’t help noticing the irony that he really  _ looked _ at Kartik’s clothes, just as he was about to take them off. He wore a black tee, with a funky-looking print of an indie band, and faded blue jeans. The perfectly styled pompadour hairstyle was already damaged beyond repair. Strands of shiny, gel-saturated tendrils of hair trailed his forehead.

Kartik raised the shirt over his head, hiding his face and exposing his torso for half a second. Aman’s pupils blew wide with desire as he was subjected to that view. Desire became honey thick, dripping down from his chest, down,  _ down _ , until it collected between his legs.

His restraint dissolved and got lost in the pits of his painful yearning.

Kartik slowly unbuttoned his shirt, laying a kiss at the newly exposed skin each time. Aman gasped and shivered. He threw his shirt to the side and kissed him again. 

During the time his lips were engaged with Kartik’s, he found himself getting led towards a twin bed. It was squeaky and narrow.

Every curve of both bodies were aligned together. Aman paused for a moment to drink in this marvel of symmetry.

_ Oh, so this is exactly how the equation figures out.  _

All coherent thought left his head when Kartik kissed him on the side of his neck, right over a gently swelling vein, which pronounced itself strongly when he screamed.

“Idhar hi rukna, condom lekar aata hoon.”

_ (Wait here, I’ll get you a condom.) _

And scream he did. Just loud enough for the both of them.

…

After quite some time, both were utterly  _ spent.  _ Aman now felt sleepy. And it was the numbing sort of sleep, felt after a long hard day. He threw caution to the wind and surrendered. His eyelids drooped and he curled up over a pillow. He was asleep within a few moments.

Kartik, in a moment of caprice, kissed Aman’s hair a few times.

“Don’t sleep, don’t sleep, please don’t sleep.” he whispered after he was sure the beautiful person next to him was fully asleep.

…

The next morning, Aman woke up with a slight headache. He found himself in unfamiliar conditions and did a hasty perimeter check. His phone, wallet, keys, everything were with him. The man was sleeping next to him.

He got dressed hurriedly, the frantic movement distracting him from the tension rising in his head.

He held his head and felt everything skewing  _ just _ a little bit out of control. That is why he was afraid of drinking. That it would make him land into situations that would make him spiral out of control. 

He was utterly  _ terrified  _ of losing control. And now he seemed to have lost it completely.

A violent sob wrenched out of his throat. He sniffed and made a mental checklist. 

_ It was consensual, we had safe sex, I wasn’t drunk enough to lose myself entirely, I haven’t been mugged, my dorm is nearby, I can go there safely. _

_ Then why the fuck am I crying?  _

Those phrases drummed against his head repeatedly. The order mixing together, jumbling, dovetailing and separating until it was an incomprehensible mess of syllables.

Sobs rattled his ribs until he felt completely empty. He didn’t want to pull the obvious dick move of disappearing from the apartment before he was even awake and claiming to forget the incident entirely due to alcohol.

Conflict raged and bounced violently against the insides of Aman’s skull. Maybe it was just the headache.

Kartik made his way toward him.

“Roh kyun rahe ho?” Kartik asked awkwardly.

_ (Why are you crying?) _

“Pata nahi yaar. Shayad nahi aana chahiye thha.” Aman mumbled the last part.

_ (I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here.) _

“Lekin tum aaye idhar. Mere saath. That’s a fact.” Kartik said smugly. Aman didn’t expect him to hear the second bit. His eyes widened, feeling as if his insides would eject themselves messily onto the floor.

_ (But you did come here. With me. That’s a fact.) _

“I didn’t want it like this…” he clutched his chest and whispered those words. Quietly like cats’ feet.

“What did you want?” Kartik found himself sounding uneasy and... _ vulnerable _ .

“Naam janane aur sex karne ke beech at least ek mahine ka waqt chahiye thha. Dates par jaana thha. Aur mujhe lagta nahi hai ki tumhara naam ‘Karan’ hai.” He spat bitterly, but Kartik could spy a hint of wistfulness and yearning tucked between the sounds of those words.

_ (I wanted a gap of one month at least between knowing his name and having sex with him. I wanted to go on dates. And I don’t think your name is ‘Karan’.) _

“Ye naam wala problem pehle solve karte hain. Waise maine tumhe galat naam diya kyun ki shaayad tumne bhi mere saath wahi kiya hai. Chhodo, usey jaane do, mera naam Kartik hai.” Kartik said gently, as if talking to a wronged child. Aman cringed a little that his lie was caught. 

_ (Let’s solve this name problem first. Anyway, I had given you a false name because I think you have done the same to me. Okay, leave it be, my name is Kartik.) _

“Aur mera, Aman.” Aman into Kartik’s eyes for a second, then his glance skipped away to the side.

_ (And mine is ‘Aman’.)  _

And in that split second, a lot of thoughts rushed through Kartik’s head. He didn’t know he had mistakenly hooked up with a  _ romantic _ . His heart trembled a little at that prospect. He didn’t have any information on this guy. He could only go with what his body told him. And currently, it was speaking dangerous words.

“Ah, isn’t all of that too much to expect from a hookup?” Aman saw a crooked smile appearing on the edges of Kartik’s mouth.

“On second thought, haan.” Aman replied sheepishly and touched the back of his neck.

“Waise, aapka ‘happily ever after’ banne ka wada nahi kar sakte, lekin aapko ek date par zaroor lekar jaa sakte hain. Give me your number please. And let’s write this off as a mistake, hmm?” Kartik sounded more hopeful than he had the right to.

_ (Okay, I can’t promise myself to be your ‘happily ever after’, but I can certainly take you out on a date. Give me your number please. And let’s write this off as a mistake, hmm?) _

Aman said most of everything he wanted to with his eyes. His eyes glinted for a split second at the prospect of a date with him.

Kartik knew then he could possibly write in the language of  _ desire  _ over both of their blank-paper bodies again and again.

Maybe even in the language of _ love _ .

“Fuckboy type ladke toh nahi ho na?” 

_ (Are you the fuckboy sort?) _

…

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This concludes the series! *Cheers for myself because I am notorious for leaving fics/series incomplete*  
> Eros is the sexual sort of love. I did not write much sex in here (erm, because I simply can't?) but I did try to portray the overall 'losing-control-due-to-lust' thingaling that happens within its domain.  
> Well, this was my attempt at turning the 'first meetings/love at first sight' trope inside out. Do tell me what you felt like. Though I think it wouldn't pass through the filter of 'believability' completely. I mean, in which universe do you find such emotionally accessible gay men who communicate openly? Haha. 
> 
> Special thanks to Monamoni for filling an important plot hole (trust me it would have been a complete disaster otherwise) and to Ashley2011 for being there for post-midnight headcanon ranting and for writing fluffy behind-the-scenes dialogue.  
> I did have quite a bit of trouble while writing this...  
> I'm taking a break for a few weeks to outline a few things-in-the-wings. *Hint hint, it might be a multi chapter fic*
> 
> As always, kudos and comments make my day!  
> Have a good day/night!  
> -Advaita


End file.
